


two hundred and thirteen days

by zephyred



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 213 days, Confession, Criller - Freeform, Fluff, How Do I Tag, M/M, Minific, Sans AUs - Freeform, Undertale aus, Valentine's Day Fluff, bakery boys, cross x killer, gays being gays, horror and dust being supportive wingmen, horror x dust - Freeform, horrordust, idiot boys in love, kross - Freeform, not canon, this is soft and not canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyred/pseuds/zephyred
Summary: "This is stupid."Killer kept a loose grip on the package held close to his targeted soul, a look of nervous defiance settling on both Dust and Horror. "What's stupid is how damn often you and Cross skirt around each other." Dust replied easily from his place draped across Horror's lap, "If I see you two dodge the obvious romantic tension in the air one more time, 'm gonna lose the small bit of mind I have left."__________valentine's day minific, killer x cross & horrordust
Relationships: Cross Sans/Killer Sans, Horror Sans/Dust Sans, Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	1. read between the lines (kross)

**Author's Note:**

> just a cute lil' minific for valentine's day 2021,,,
> 
> keep in mind that I hc killer as being the shortest in the gang & horror being the largest, so adjectives like 'smaller, taller, larger' will be used. 'smaller' will always be kills or dust.
> 
> 'X' is cross' nickname, and 'H' is horror's. this ain't canon lmao, I wanted soft gay boys.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> horror and dust help killer sort things out before everyone in the gang snaps entirely.

"This is stupid."

Killer kept a loose grip on the package held close to his targeted soul, a look of nervous defiance settling on both Dust and Horror. "What's stupid is how damn often you and Cross skirt around each other." Dust replied easily from his place draped across Horror's lap, "If I see you two dodge the _obvious_ romantic tension in the air one more time, 'm gonna lose the small bit of mind I have left." The taller let out a frustrated sigh, dragging the palms of his gloved hands down his face in exaggeration.

"X likes ya' jus' as much as you like him."

Horror added in, "Dust's right. 'F he ain't gonna make the first move, then you gotta do it fer the sake of everyone- 's like there's an elephant 'n the room whenever the two of you are around each other." Dust sprung to life at the larger's words, hands flying sporadically and scarf catching against the backing of the couch. 

"Exactly!" Killer rolled his eyes as a grey-stained finger was pointed accusingly at him from across the room. "Jus' you, Cross, and the god damn elephant that is _clearly_ yer unresolved lovey dovey issues. Or sex, you never know with y-" Dust's syllables quickly became muffled as Horror closed a clawed hand gently over his partner's mouth with an apologetic smile. "Ignore him, Kills. You 'n Crossy would be a cute couple, 'n I think that's what Mr. Loudmouth over here 's _tryin'_ to say. Ain't that right, love?" The latter question was directed at Dust, who offered Horror the middle finger in return. 

"Yeah, 's definitely what Dusty is tryin' to say."

The cannibal paid no attention to his struggling boyfriend. "X'll love it, Kills. We wouldn't be encouragin' ya' to do this if we knew that Cross would say no; 'sides, it's the perfect time to ask him." Killer shot the larger a glare, though he knew what his trio mate spoke was far from a lie. "I fuckin' hate you, you know that?"

To Killer's dismay, Horror merely grinned.

///

"Ight, you got this." 

Dust had both hands clasped securely upon Killer's shoulders, the taller leaning most of his weight against the smaller's spine as Horror stood off to the side with crossed arms. "Dunno if this is a good idea." Killer muttered, "Cross probably doesn't even like me ba-" the Killertale didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, Dust's grip on his shoulders spinning him around to face both Horror and Dust. 

"None of that shit."

Dust clicked his tongue with narrowed eyes. "Everybody knows that you two are fuckin' puppies in love. Hell, even the _Boss_ knows it, Kills." A gloved finger flicked the wrapped gift held close to Killer's chest, and the shorter huffed in mild irritation. "And if X suddenly gets hit with a wave of stupid and forgets how to say 'yes', H and I will break his kneecaps. Capiche?" Horror nodded in quiet agreement, giving Killer a reassuring pat on the back before nudging the smallest of the trio out into the hall and around the corner.

"Capiche."

Killer muttered, taking in a sideways breath as he found himself standing in front of Cross' door. He could hear the soft whispered words of encouragement from his other two trio mates behind the next hallway's corner, sliding an abyssal-black gaze behind him to just barely catch the gloved thumbs-up from Dust before it slipped away from sight and out of view, leaving the hate-filled skeleton standing alone in the corridor. _Here goes nothin'._ Shifting his weight awkwardly onto the balls of his feet, Killer reached out and knocked thrice upon the heavy wooden door. There was a faint rustle of noise from within the room, the sound of papers fluttering against each other and the muted curse of someone struggling to pull on an item of clothing. "Jus' a sec!" The familiar note of Cross' voice could be heard faintly through the walls, and the pounding in Killer's chest grew just a little bit stronger.

"Sorry for the wait, I managed to scatter all my papers in an attempt to-"

The door was smoothly opened to reveal a discombobulated Cross, who stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Killer standing in his doorway. "O-oh! Killer, what brings you here?" All previous rambling had been halted instantly, Killer offering a signature lopsided grin as his contribution to comfort. "Hope I didn't interrupt anythin' important, it sounded like a full on house party in there." The grin became a bit more real as Cross rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, gaze falling to the floor as a hint of flustered flush rose to settle in his cheekbones. "Yeah. Uh, no, you didn't interrupt anythin'." There was a low mutter underneath the former guardsman's breath, Killer only catching the tail end of _'watch where you're going next time, moron'_ that seemed to be directed at nobody but Cross himself.

"Party or not, here-"

Killer took the moment of opportunity to shove the parcel he held in his grasp roughly into Cross' chest, who stumbled for a moment before taking the package in his own. "For you." Killer mumbled, shoving his scarred hands deep into the tattered pockets of his hoodie. "What- for _me_?" The hint of guarded disbelief made Killer roll his eyes, sighing in what he'd never admit as adoring exasperation. "Yeah, dumbass. 'S for you." A droplet of hatred made its way down Killer's face, dripping from his jawline before fizzling out of existence halfway through its descent onto the floor. "Unless there's a second Cross hangin' around here that I ain't aware of, in which case-" he was cut off by a harmless swat of Cross' hand against his hoodie sleeve, the monochrome skeleton huffing in mild amusement.

"Okay, okay- I get it." Cross muttered, giving Killer a glare that held no venom. "Do I just- do I just open it? Or should I wait? Should I sav-" it was Killer's playful nudge that broke X out of his uncertainty this time, the shorter leaning against the open doorframe. "Holy _shit_ , Criss Cross. Jus' open the damn thing, it ain't like it's time sensitive or jerry-rigged to blow yer dick off." There was another small burst of blush on the guard's face at the blunt nature of Killer's words, and Kills could hear the faint muffled laughter of Dust still hiding behind the stone corner.

"Fine, fine- I'll open it. I was just asking to be safe." _I know._ Killer thought quietly as Cross gently pulled at the wrappings, _'S why yer so damn cute_. It was moments like this, the moments that displayed the difference in personalities, that served to remind Killer just how long it had taken for Cross and himself to _actually_ get along. 

It had been a rough couple of months when Nightmare first dragged X into the gang, countless weeks of petty arguments and pointless bickering. Cross had thought Killer to be far too careless, too cocky- _not that Killer could deny that, per say_ -and too disrespectful to be remotely tasteful. To put it simply, Killer just happened to rub Cross wrong in every single plausible way; from his lewd humor to reckless abandon, the shorter skeleton managed to get under the former guardsman's nonexistent skin in a way that nobody else had ever been capable.

Now, in terms of fairness, Killer had to admit that he didn't exactly hesitate to add fuel to the already roaring fire. Cross had seemed uppity, boring, a kiss-ass kind of guy in the very beginning. His borderline 'hero complex' drove Killer up the fucking walls at times- he _hated_ being regarded as some 'lower' kind of being, a person who needed to be pitied or saved. Regardless of Cross' former position in his AU's royal guard, just the mere _sight_ of the Xtale's confident stance made Killer's hollow soul ring wild with an echo of rage. The two were just too different from one another, and eventually the constant fighting and heavy contempt-filled atmosphere became too much for even Nightmare to handle without irritation.

It wasn't until the Boss placed Cross and Killer on the same two-person team for a handful of missions that things finally began to change. The decision was something both members hated, but Cross respected Nightmare far too much to argue back and Killer's loyalty to the guardian as his right-hand man prevented him from speaking up _too_ much about it. Dust and Horror were also proven useless during the mixup; both were tired of the constant bickering- _'I'll snap both your damn necks if you two ever wake me up from fucking sleep one more time' was what Dust had said, if Killer could remember correctly_ -and content to keep one another as partners.

As much as the duo hated working with one another, the battlefield was one hell of a teller on somebody's personality. A person never became truer to themselves than in the midst of danger, and it wasn't until Cross and Killer were saving each other's necks that the misguided first impressions slowly started to peel away. Yes, Cross was a bit uppity and a smidge too respectful for Killer's taste, but that didn't change the fact that the former guardsman was one hell of a beast on the battlefield. While Killer could certainly be cocky and careless at times, that didn't mask the obvious care the knife-wielding skeleton took with Cross' safety.

Bit by bit, the hatred between them lessened.

Missions with one another were no longer viewed as a burden. Training sessions were no longer purposely scheduled in such a way that Cross and Killer never crossed paths, and the never-ceasing cycle of insults and arguing ground down to almost a complete and utter halt. There was, of course, still the occasional brawl and spitting affront that happened from time to time, but those too became less common as both Killer and Cross began to spend more time together willingly.

Which led to this very moment, seven months later.

It had been over a year since Cross was first inducted into Nightmare's ramshackle gang, a year of bruises and wounded egos. It had been a year of ups and downs, a year of teaching Cross how to let go and three hundred and sixty-five days of slowly coaching Killer's long-lost feelings back to the surface with the help of every living being present in Nightmare's mansion. Seven months from the very first afternoon that Cross and Killer had spent alone, unprompted, watching stupidly shitty movies and laughing about the sense of bad luck that seemed to not only plague the movie characters but themselves as well. Two hundred and thirteen days spent figuring out that the faint little flutter in Killer's battered soul did, in fact, flutter because of Cross.

Two hundred and thirteen days all led to here, the brief snapshot in time where Cross and Killer stood side by side in an ever familiar hallway on Valentine's Day.

"Is this-" Cross finally spoke as the last of the wrapping paper drifted to the ground, "-is this a set of hip sheaths?" His white eyelights contrasted starkly against the black leather he held in his hands, amazement clear on his face as he turned the material over to gaze at phenomenal craftsmanship. "Yep." Killer popped the _'p'_ with a slight tilt of his skull, "What else could th-" Cross turned to look at him with eyes alight with incredulity, cutting off the teasing sentence before it could even really begin. "Where the hell did you find these, dude? These things are fucking _top-tier_ , I don't even know where you'd begin to go to get your hands on-" 

"I made them."

Killer smoothly replied, shifting against the stone doorway to relieve the slight ache his spine had developed against the unyielding wall. "I make 'em all the time for knives, and I noticed that ya started to use your daggers a bit more over the past couple 'o missions. So, y'know, I figured why the hell not make you a pair of them to hold your shi-" the smaller was scooped up in a bear hug from the taller skeleton, Killer exhaling softly as Cross drew him tight and close against his chest. 

"You made them."

Cross' voice was oddly quiet, Killer's hate-stained cheek pressed flush against the fur of a monochrome jacket. "Shit, Kills- _thank you._ " Something fluttered, silent, in Killer's chest at the tone in which the taller spoke. As Cross finally pulled away, the faint stardust of purple upon X's cheekbones was no longer hidden from view. "Yeah, yeah." Killer pushed himself to his feet, "No need to thank me. Jus' doin' somethin' nice for someone I care about." The admittance caused Cross' eyesockets to widen, briefly, before the faint sound of something hitting the ground stole his attention away.

_Ah. Right._

A thin piece of paper lay discarded on the ground, resting atop the remaining scraps of wrapping paper that dusted the floor with their presence. "Oh, no, you don't gotta-" Killer quickly leaned down to grab the slip of paper that had fallen, but Cross snatched the folded material before the shorter could get his hands on it. "-grab it." He muttered, straightening as Cross gently propped the sheaths against the wall by his feet. "What's this?" The taller waved the paper in one hand, eyes glancing at Killer with curiosity. "'S nothin," Killer's tone was even, "Musta slipped in there by accident." 

"Accident, huh?"

The throbbing in Killer's chest grew more erratic as the guardsman began to unfold the thin slip, "Then it's okay if I open it, right?" Curiosity was laced through every syllable, and as respectful as Cross was with other's wishes his sense of curiosity was always stronger. "No, X, wait-" 

If there was ever a moment where Killer _felt_ regret, it was that one single second where Cross stopped moving as eyelights skimmed over scribbled words upon paper.

The hallway became silent, neither Killer nor Cross moving as the former guardsman swallowed thickly. "Kills." The unfamiliar emotion was back, heavy and thick in the other's words. "Did- did you mean it? What you wrote?" Dripping eyesockets refused to meet Cross' glowing ones, Killer staring long and hard at the ground and thinking, with an odd pang in his chest, that the tiled floor really did have an interesting pattern. _"Killer."_ There was a hand on his shoulder, _"Did you mean it?"_ The silence was suffocating, and the smaller forced himself to raise his skull and meet the guardsman's gaze, if only to try and cease the pounding in his soul before it knocked him all apart from the inside out. "Yeah." Killer whispered, softly, "Yeah, I did mean it."

Not even a second later, there was a mouth pressed against his own.

Cross yanked Killer close and kissed him, the action clumsy and uncertain and tinged with desperation. It took the smaller by surprise, Killer's soul snapping into a heart-shaped ring as he no longer hesitated to push himself up against Cross and kiss him back. It was messy, it was sloppy, it was a little lopsided- yet, somehow, the kiss was utterly perfect.

It was so utterly _them._

The note held in Cross' hand fluttered to the ground in favor of the guardsman cupping Killer's face, the small sliver of paper landing face up once again among the wrappings. _Will you be my Valentine?_ the wrinkled piece of paper displayed, _Since I want you to be valen-mine_. It was stupid, it was cheesy, but it was also purely Killer; and to Cross, nothing could be more perfect, more loveable nor mildly-infuriating. "The answer is _yes_ , you stupid cocky bastard." Cross breathed as they pulled apart, "The answer is yes." As the two of them stumbled back into Cross' room with heaving chests and beating souls as the door closed behind them, there was a simple fact lying scribbled, scrunched, at the bottom of the note.

_All it took was two hundred and thirteen days._


	2. red-velvet musings (horrordust)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> horror and dust celebrate a job well done and simply enjoy one another's company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couldn't miss the opportunity to write about my babies, horror 'n dust,,, I love this ship so much, I stg  
> 'smaller/taller' = dust, 'larger' = horror

"'M real glad that worked out."

Dust exhaled as he stirred sporadically at the pastry dough, "Wasn't sure how I was gonna handle it if it didn't." The two figures stood alone in the mess of a kitchen, oven dinging to notify Horror that the device had successfully preheated. "We wouldn't have nudged him if we thought there was even a _chance_ of X sayin' no." The larger mumbled quietly, "We love 'em both too much to purposely do somethin' that would end up hurtin' them." Several half-empty boxes of candy hearts lay discarded on the counter, their colorful contents singing quiet words of love and adoration in the dim overhead light. "Doesn't make it any less nerve-wrackin'." The dough stuck to the curves of the whisk, the faint aroma of sugar dripping from metal as Dust grimaced. "The last thing we needed was things goin' back to the way they used to be. We ain't certified matchmakers, y'know." 

"Wouldn't do much use even if we were." Horror rumbled, singular crimson eyelight focused on measuring out one cup of unsalted butter that was slipped quietly into the microwave to soften. "Nobody here 's normal. There ain't no tellin' who or what the hell anybody likes; it's a matchmaker's nightmare." Dust snorted in agreement, flinging a bit of batter onto the wall as he pointed the whisk crookedly at the larger. 

"I know I like _you_ -"

He offered a lopsided grin partnered with an eyebrow wriggle, "-but that's about it. Everythin' else changes far too often fer me to keep track." Horror huffed at the teasing remark, mumbling something that was inaudible save for the faint words of _'love you too'_. "Matchmakers or not, things ended jus' fine." Horror appeared behind the hooded skeleton, gently resting his hand upon Dust's and guiding both gloved appendage and whisk back to the waiting bowl of batter.

"We even gave Kills a back door, an excuse to get out 'f things go sour." The methodic rhythm of stirring returned. "That ain't gonna be useful, I don't think either of one 'em is gonna do much _walking_ any time soon." Dust grinned, cackling quietly as Horror rolled his eyes in flustered assumption. "Well 's there anyway. Walkin' or not." There was a dull thud as softened butter slid down the sides of a glass bowl to sit awkwardly upon a mound of powdered sugar. 

The majority of the mansion's members were out doing their own thing for Valentine's Day, whether it be with separate friends or older family. Horror and Dust had chosen to occupy the kitchen in their absence, and the countertops were stained with flecks of batter and chunks of forming icing as the couple slowly worked their way through a battered recipe for cupcakes. 

"Yeah, this doesn't look right." The hooded skeleton poked at the batter with the end of his utensil, "Pretty sure I fucked somethin' up, H. Sorry." Dust wasn't a frequent in the kitchen like his boyfriend was. Horror was a natural when it came to most things edible, and Dust was, well, simply not. He had a tendency to burn the majority of things that needed to be cooked and a nasty habit of messing up meals that required an ingredient of patience; he was just fine when it came down to science or battle, but the kitchen was one opponent that the taller could never seem to overcome.

"Lemme see." Horror peered over Dust's shoulder with his own bowl of homemade frosting cradled securely in his arms. "Nah, 's just lumpy. Here, you gotta stir it like this or else it won't get smooth 'n even." The faint clink of glass upon marble countertop signaled that the cannibal had discarded his own project in favor of salvaging Dust's, and a clawed hand was once again placed gently over Dust's gloved one. "Quick and thorough." The whisk slid thickly through the dough as Horror moved his and Dust's hands in sync, showing the smaller the proper motions to actually mix the ingredients together. "Okay, okay- like this?" The tip of a mauve tongue protruded from Dust's mouth as the Dusttale squinted, pouring most of his focus into mimicking the actions demonstrated by his lover. 

"Yep. Perfect." 

A nuzzle against his neck was Dust's reward, Horror purring as he planted a kiss gently to the taller's cheek. "I'll start addin' in the food coloring as you stir, ight?" A hooded head nodded in confirmation. The duo were attempting to make red-tinted cupcakes in celebration of Valentine's Day; Dust was in charge of making the batter and Horror was doubling down on the frosting. "Jus' mix it in like normal." A few drops of dark red coloring joined in on the fray, Dust doing his best to stir in the crimson color evenly throughout the mixture. 

"There we go."

Horror gave a pleased hum, "Now we can pour it 'n slip 'em into the oven." Transferring the batter into the cupcake tins was messy and entirely without grace, but the uneven cupcakes were a product of Dust's hard work and that was all Horror could really ask for. "We'll start with nineteen minutes." The trays were placed into the oven, the timer set, and half an hour's work was once slipped quietly into the next phase. "The frostin' just needs to chill for a bit in the fridge and we're all set to go." The countertops were wiped down and the frosting bowl secured with plastic wrap, the fluffy white topping set to cool and harden in the fridge.

"Cuddles. Now."

The abrupt change in activity wasn't unexpected by Dust, who happily allowed Horror to guide his smaller frame into the living room by one clawed hand lying upon his wrist. Dust would normally insist they move into one of their rooms instead of the living room couch but the only other people in the mansion were 'busy' in Cross' room doing god-knows-what, and Dust knew that Horror didn't want to stray too far from the kitchen lest something take an unfortunate turn.

The larger was always careful like that, cautious in a way that Dust could never hope to be.

The hooded skeleton _used_ to be like that, a being with conscious need for health and safety. Dust used to be aware and watching, someone careful long before a dust-dirtied scarf first appeared in the snow. Things were different now, though, and he knew that he'd lost a good portion of himself that let him take care and pride in knowing that caution was always an option.

"Lap. Please." Dust had been too caught up in his thoughts to even realize that Horror had already settled onto the couch, clawed hands outstretched and reaching for a smaller dust-stained frame to be settled close against his larger one."Pff, okay, okay- 'm comin', 'm comin'." Dust plopped himself shapelessly into Horror's lap, letting out a soft exhale as Horror immediately wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled Dust close against his torso. "Awfully lovey today, aren't we?" There was a slight falter in Horror's movements as Dust sighed, lacing his gloved arms around the larger's neck.

"'S okay, babe. I don' mind."

Horror was notorious for dishing out physical affection in large quantities, whether it was in the form of a hug or a decently long cuddle session. It had taken a long time to convince the cannibal that nobody in the mansion would hurt him- _not that Dust could blame him, it had taken years for the killer himself to adjust to the idea of 'no violence' directed towards him too_ -but once they did, Horror more than made up for it through lavish physical affection. Horrortale wasn't exactly a place where one could achieve a hug or a cuddle, and now H strived to make up for all the lost contact he'd missed over the past few years.

"I love ya."

Dust murmured, tilting his skull up to press a soft kiss against Horror's mouth. "'N yer cozy, so don't start feelin' bad about cuddlin'. Ight? Specially not today, not when it's Valentine's." The faint purr that filled the air was answer enough, and Dust slouched down to rest his head against Horror's ribcage as the larger shifted to pull him closer. "'M sorry we ain't doin' anythin' elaborate for today." The apology was soft-spoken. "That we ain't goin' anywhere or doin' somethin' fancy, like the Boss or Kills." It was Horror's turn to offer comfort this time, his deep raspy voice sliding over Dust like a blanket.

"Yer here with me, 'n that's good enough."

The Horrortale nuzzled against Dust. "I don' need nothin' else." The oven beeped one, twice, blaring loudly as the self-set timer went off in desperate need need of checking. "Shit, we gotta-" Dust's efforts to move from the larger's embrace went unsuccessful, the two sturdy arms wrapped securely around his waist halting him dead in his tracks.

"The cupcakes can wait." Horror mumbled, "But this can't." A singular claw moved to delicately tilt Dust's chin up towards his own, Horror pressing his teeth gently against his smaller lover's with a barely audible _'clink'_. "I love ya lots, Bunny. Yer the best thing to ever happen to me, 'n there's nobody else I'd rather spend Valentine's with." A crimson eyelight regarded Dust's asymmetrical ones with a soft fondness, and Dust was suddenly filled with the urge to kiss his lover back, soft and slow and tender. 

"Yeah." Dust finally managed as he pulled away, putting just enough distance between himself and the larger for Horror to see the rare smile sliding quietly across his face. "Yer my entire world, H. I love everythin' about you." The faint scent of sugar sat heavy in the air, and Dust ran his fingers gently along the jagged edge of Horror's headcrack. "Yer perfect. Yer _mine_ ," the word was nearly growled, "And there's nobody else I want more." Gloved fingers trailed along bone, a ghosting of touch as Dust reached up to draw Horror's skull against his own.

"So Happy Valentine's Day to you too, dork."


End file.
